Menicla liked several things in life. She liked fine music. She liked soft pillows and comfortable furnishings. She liked the taste of human blood as it slid down her throat.
Yes. Menicla, a Countess of the New Human Empire, was a Methuselah.
At the moment, Menicla was strolling outside her vacation home in Syracuse after the sun went down, trying to find her troublesome younger brother, Ramnoff. The boy was thirty and yet acted like he had no sense. It was about time he stopped playing pranks and began to act with the dignity of a real Methuselah.
"Ramnoff! If you don't get inside I'll throw you into the sun!" she shouted. Troublesome boy, never thinking things out, a waste of a good Methuselah…Meni sighed, vexed at Ramnoff and also at herself. These were not fair thoughts. She knew she should have more patience with her brother, but patience was a virtue she had yet to learn.
"Ramnoff!" she began again, but stopped as she caught a Methuselah scent leading off of the grounds. Ramnoff. It had to be him, taking one of the late-night snacks that he was so fond of. Menicla had three younger brothers and two older sisters, but none of her siblings were as incorrigible as he.
It was Meni's responsibility to look out for him, though. She followed the trail into the human city nearby. Some delicious smells were coming from buildings–blood and human foods, which she could eat–but she had no time to stop.
A scent buried itself in her nose like a grub. This was a sweet and spicy scent, so strong and sharp that she reeled back a few steps. It was mixed in with Ramnoff's. Menicla frowned–that couldn't be a human scent, could it? She followed the treacherous trail faster, though the city and beyond, until it finally led to a broken-down house. She kicked open the rotting wood door and stared inside.
There was her younger brother, on the floor, paler than a ghost, gasping weakly as blood trickled from marks on his neck…and a much more serious wound. His torso had been separated from his legs. As she watched, the legs began to twitch.
Menicla began to scream…
Chapter One: Reports
Abel Nightroad seemed to survive in a state of constant starvation–that was Rory Manor's conclusion. The young pilot could hear the priest's stomach rumbling even now, after they had both scarfed down sandwiches for lunch. Rory checked his instruments, noted that the light aircraft he was flying was still a good twenty minutes away from the Vatican, and turned a smile on the priest in the copilot's seat. "There are still some crackers left, if you're hungry," he offered.
He got a sheepish smile in return. "I didn't want to seem greedy," Abel said, rubbing his head. "It was very kind of you to fly me back to the Vatican, especially after I wrecked one of your zeppelins!"
Rory waved the comment away. "You got rid of that thing that killed Mrs. Lena. A ride is the least I can do." Abel nodded seriously, and pushed his glasses higher up his nose.
To their surprise, something in the ship started beeping.
Rory quickly checked over his all of his instruments, looking for a warning light or a low gauge that would warrant the irritating little beeps. The priest, who had been looking around in a state close to panic, suddenly gasped, "Oh!" and pulled a little metal device from his habit. "I have a message," he said by way of explanation. "I have to take this, sorry."
He clicked a button and a hologram materialized above the little object: a middle-aged yet still pretty nun with laugh lines. Right now, though, she looked very solemn. "Abel, are you on your way back?" she asked.
"Hello to you too, Sister Kate. Yes, Mr. Rory was kind enough to fly me back home," Abel said. "What's wrong?"
"Well, I hope your business in Venice is concluded, because you're needed in the New Human Empire right away. We're on the Iron Maiden, already en route. I can send Mister–Rory did you say it was?–the coordinates, and he can meet us this side of the border to drop you off."
Abel and Rory spoke at the same time. "I don't mind taking him–" "Is it really that urgent–"
"Yes, it is that urgent, and this is Vatican business, Mr. Rory, so you may drop him off and thank you for your services," Kate said firmly.
"Kate, at least tell me a little of what I'm getting into," Abel wheedled. He intercepted Kate's warning glance and added, "Don't worry about Rory; I trust him. In fact, I wouldn't be here right now without his assistance."
Kate looked from one to the other, Abel's face looking as innocent as it could, and Rory's looking as noble and trustworthy as it could. She sighed as much as it is possible for a hologram to sigh. "Fine." The two young men leaned forward, and Kate added sharply, "This is a Vatican investigation, Mister Rory, and if one word of it gets out, there will be dire consequences. Do you understand?"
Rory put his hand over his heart and swore not to tell as soul. Then, after Kate sent him the coordinates of the Iron Maiden and he adjusted the course of the ship accordingly, the holographic nun said, "Two days ago, a Methuselah was attacked while in Vatican territories."
"Where?" Abel asked sharply.
"It was in Syracuse. Apparently, a very old Methuselah family, the Nithsgorgs, has had a second home there for nearly a century. They were taking their traditional vacation there when the youngest son, Ramnoff, was attacked. He was badly injured, and he claims that he was overwhelmed by a creature stronger and faster than he. Can you imagine that? But now the Empire is pointing fingers at the Vatican, since the crime took place in Vatican territory."
There was plenty Rory wanted to say, but he didn't want to draw attention to himself and have Kate stop talking. He concentrated on the air currents around him, trying to be inconspicuous, and so missed the very sober and dangerous cast that Abel's eyes took. "Did Ramnoff Nithsgorg describe his attacker any further?" Abel asked.
"He's not saying anything else," Kate said. "Vampire officials are already at the Nithsgorg estate–they are a family of Counts and Countesses, since their parents passed away several years ago. The AX needs to be there. Tres is with us, and he'll be accompanying you to their mansion. Any information you can gather will be useful."
"What about Syracuse? Has it been searched?"
Kate looked meaningfully over at Rory. "I'll tell you more at your briefing when you arrive."
"I'll be there soon, Kate," Abel said, and with a few words of farewell, the hologram disappeared. Abel stashed the metal device in his habit again as Rory turned to him with a plea in his eyes.
"Abel, I can take you directly to the estate," he said. "I can find the coordinates easily enough, and I won't have any problem getting through the particle field! I've got clearance to fly anywhere!"
The priest shook his head. "This one is very dangerous, Rory."
"Of course; anything that could attack a vampire has to be pretty tough," Rory agreed quickly. "But you may need a good pilot, and I, well, I'm the best. Plus I owe you for saving my life in that canal."
Abel tried to wave this away, but Rory persisted. "You know I can't swim for anything," he said. "I can fly you to the Nithsgorg estate, and then your boss can chew me out if she wants. And," he added, struck by a sudden inspiration, "I can make some more ham sandwiches for us when we get there. I have all the ingredients in the fridge."
"Ham sandwiches," Abel moaned. "I feel like I haven't eaten in days…okay, to the estate!" The pilot grinned, and Abel pulled out the metal device again. "Now watch this," he said with a sly smile. A press of the right button, and Kate appeared again over the device.
"So sorry, Kate, but I think you might have sent us the wrong coordinates! We're right where we should be and there's no sign of you…you did say 46 degrees 36 minutes N and 60 degrees 20 minutes E, right?"
"No, I said 52 degrees 20 minutes N, and–" Kate began, but Abel spoke over her.
"I think we're losing you, Sister Kate!" he yelled, clicking the button on and off to make the hologram flicker. "I'll just meet you at the Nithsgorg estate, all right?"
With one final click, the hologram disappeared for good. Abel Nightroad sat back in satisfaction.
Rory said, "That was brilliant! It won't get you in much trouble, will it?"
Abel sighed. "I'm always in trouble. A little more won't hurt me. Now, about those ham sandwiches you promised…is there any more mustard?"
Disclaimer: I do not own Trinity Blood or any of its characters or ideas. I leave them to their creators.
Well, this is the first chapter of my first fanfic to make it online. Please review! I appreciate any and all feedback. Thank you for reading, you wonderful people!